


When the Crow Calls

by Dulcesia



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: AU where they meet when they're kids, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Childhood Friends, Cute Kids, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, There's some abuse from the school Henry goes to, Validar is a bad father, nothing is too graphic, there's not a lot of romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-31 05:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15112988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dulcesia/pseuds/Dulcesia
Summary: Two lonely children meet each night.





	1. A Strange Girl

The moon was fat and full in the sky, a lovely pale white. It would be his only friend for the night. He imagined it was tough and proud, for it was full of scars from its countless battles. It would follow him as he travelled through the night, and keep him safe. At least, he hoped it would.

He glanced around his dormitory room one last time. It was small and faded, as if it wanted to rub away its colors and vanish into the gloom. He could not blame it. It was a lonely room, at the top of one of the school’s towers, and was horribly hot during the day. He grabbed his cloak from his chair, and stepped out the door.

It creaked, a loud, heavy groan, and he flinched. Stupid. He was alone at the top of the tower. No one could hear him. No one would come, even if they did hear a suspicious noise. It was only strange Henry at the top, after all.

He dashed down the stairs, heart fluttering, and raced around the dizzying maze of corridors and doors until he found the one he wanted. It looked like a simple painting of a forest, but it hid an underground entrance. He explored the school often enough that he had discovered countless secret passageways and hidden rooms like this.

He stretched his arms and poked the top of the tallest tree, feeling a smooth groove, and the painting swung open. The opening was big enough for him to scramble through and down into the dirt tunnel. The painting shut with a loud crack, and sealed off any remaining moonlight. It was okay. He would find the moon at the other side.

It was hard to be scared as he ran, faster and faster, breaths escaping in loud gasps. He always hated this part, where roots and mortar brushed against the top of his head, where freedom was so close yet just out of reach.

Finally, he found a patch of moonlight peeking down above. It came in slivers, crisscrossed by the iron grate that covered it. He grasped the edge of it, and pulled, until it came down with a creak and he could hoist himself onto damp stone. He was now in a little stone room, with rough hewn windows and half of a straw roof. Nothing remained, except a rotting chair and scattered leaves.

The building was long abandoned, on the outskirts of the school grounds, hidden between bushes and trees and lawns scarred by magic. In other words, it was safe.

He smiled. He had made it! Now came the fun part. He would explore the city like a starved man, and it would feed him with sights and sounds and colors he could not experience otherwise.

\------

He knew his path like the back of his hand. No one paid him any mind, for he was just another shadow, another hooded shape slipping through the night.

The city nightlife was just another run past the school grounds. It bustled, it murmured, it belched smoke and delicious smells into the night. Streetlamps flickered, lit by magic. Vendors tiredly hawked the last of their wares. People chattered, cats darted inside alleys, and tarvens glowed with buttery candlelight.

He moved past it all. He would head to the bridge today. The river, the source of all life in sandy Plegia, would be bobbing with boats and fish. Not only that, restaurants and food stalls crowded the other side of the bridge. He might not be able to buy anything, but he could smell it, and that was good enough.

He darted through residential areas, carefully avoiding the dilapidated, poorer parts of the city. Last time he went that way, he had almost been mugged if not for his quick thinking (and a carefully aimed kick).

The bridge was almost in sight. He could recognize its looming shape anywhere. It was huge, as if it had been shaped by dragons instead of men. It was made of stone worn down by years of shoes rushing from one side to another,. Blue flowers grew in its cracked sides, and tendrils of green vines ran playfully through and across the stone. Lampposts dotted it in spaced intervals, lit by the same magic that powered all the lamps in the city. The pungent smell of fish and river water was overpowering.

He smiled. Almost no one traversed it at this time of night. There were other, far more interesting places to be. He was alone. Or so he thought.

As he approached, he spotted another shape, huddled over the ground. He froze, observing it carefully. It was too small to be an adult… was it a child, then? But what child had business on the bridge at this time of night?

He glanced briefly up at the moon, asking for strength from his friend, before he looked back. Hopefully it was nothing dangerous.

A crow hopped away from the child. Several more crows took shape from the shadows as he stared. They were seemingly languid, pecking at the ground, but he saw the tension in their bodies. They squaked and scattered whenever the child took a step towards them. He squinted, confused.

“Come back!” A girl’s voice, for sure. It was lovely, but colored by frustration. “Don’t run! Let’s be friends!”

He relaxed at those words. He often played with crows when he was out in the city. They liked to flock around him, and he gave them pieces of food in return. Crows were his best friends, and anyone who wanted to be friends with them couldn’t be bad, right?

Even if she was more dangerous than she appeared, he knew how to hurt others.

He approached, curious now. He was right behind her before he spoke. “What’re you doing?”

The girl screamed, and he screamed right back in shock. She fell onto her back, and the crows flew into a frenzy. They fluttered around wildly as feathers and caws filled the air. It was during this frenzy that Henry approached this girl. He paid no heed as several crows settled on his shoulder, and the rest flew off.

What should he do? He hadn’t talked to anyone else in a long while that hadn’t been trying to be mean to him. He… he should smile. He remembered that. You smiled when you were happy, and he tried to do it often. Or was it that smiling made you happy? Oh, well.

An awkward smile stretched across his face as he stared at the girl. The last of the crows flew away, and the girl rose slowly.

Her silver hair was as bright as the moon, and her eyes were wary as she stared at him. He flushed. She was pretty. He didn’t know how to talk to girls, let alone pretty ones. His school was boys only.

“Y-you scared them off,” she said accusingly.

“I’m sorry. I just… You were bothering them.”

“What?”

“They don’t like it when you touch them.”

“But they’re standing on your shoulders!”

“Oh. That’s because… they trust me. They’re my best friends.”

“Best friends?” Was she going to laugh? The teachers had school had always told him that it was rubbish that crows could be his friends. “Can they be my best friends, too?”

A flush of warmth spread within him as she gave him a curious, tentative smile. He stretched his smile wider. A crow hopped down to tease at his hair, but he ignored it. “Yes! I-I can! Definitely!”

“Who are you?”

“I’m… lonely. I mean, I’m Henry,” he said, flustered.

She giggled at his mistake, and her shoulders relaxed. “Do you know the… Where are you from?”

“The magic academy.”

“That’s pretty far, though.” Did he mistake the relief in her eyes? What had she worried that he was?

“I liked the walk.”

“I like walking, too. It’s pretty at night.”

“It is! And it always smells so good.”

The girl nodded, and the two observed each other once more. He couldn’t help but notice how nice her eyes were. They were rich and brown, and he never really thought of brown as a nice color before.

“I’m Robin,” she said finally.

“Nice to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you, too.”

“Robin… like the bird. That’s cool. Birds are cool.”

“They are! I wish I could fly like they do.”

“Me too. Then I could go wherever I wanted, and no one would ever bother me!”

“That’d be nice.” She hesitated once more. “Wouldn’t your parents worry, though?”

“I don’t have parents.”

Her eyes softened. “Oh no. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. They didn't like me, anyways. They left when I was a baby.” How could you miss someone you never knew? Whoops. He had almost frowned, then. Smile, smile.

“I get that. My dad… he doesn’t care about me much.”

“Oh. Um… do you want to hold a crow?”

“Of course!”

Robin stretched out her arms eagerly. Henry prompted a crow to trail down his arm and rest on his hand. Claws bit into his skin, but he barely felt it. “Be nice,” he mumbled.  
The crow fluffed its feathers, and Henry set his hand right next to Robin’s. It took a cautious step onto Robin’s hand. She wore leather gloves, and he eyed them curiously. He had never seen anyone wear gloves like that, unless they were handling animals.

“Hi--whoa!” With a ruffle, the crow took off, but not before throwing Henry a disgruntled look.

They both watched in stunned silence as it vanished into the night. “They never behave like that usually. Maybe he's just grumpy… I’m sorry.”

Robin didn’t respond. Instead, she rubbed the top of her hand absently. “It’s okay. I used the wrong hand. Animals don’t like me much, anyways.”

Wrong hand? “That was still rude of him. The only thing you wanted to do was be friends!”

“That’s okay. I have you, right?”

“Huh?”

“Oh. Sorry… I thought we were kind of like… friends. Because... I don’t really have any, and you were nice, so…” She tugged at a strand of silvery hair that had escaped her hood.

“No! We are friends. I was just… I don’t have any friends, either!”

Robin giggled again. Henry realized that he rather liked the sound of it. It was like bubbles, faint and sweet. “You sound too happy about that.”

“Being sad about it is…” he closed his eyes briefly. A memory struggled to escape, but he pushed it away. “It’s dumb.”

“It is. But you can’t be happy all the time.”

“Says who? I am!” Henry flashed her another brilliant smile.

“Pfft. You’re fun, Henry.”

“So are you. Do you come here often?”

Another flash of wariness in her eyes. She seemed to search for the right answer before responding. “Not really. My dad doesn’t like it.”

“Do you… want to meet here again?”

“Sure. Around this time, okay? I can’t go during the day.”

“Okay. Me neither. I have… classes then.”

“Do you like them?”

“The teachers are mean. They like to punish us if we don’t listen.”

Robin started, a horrified look in her eyes. “That’s awful! Are you okay? Do you need a healer?”

“I’m okay. The wounds heal pretty fast. Don’t worry, I’m used to it!” He had hoped that would calm the worry in her eyes, but it only seemed to make it worse.

“That’s not okay.” She looked to be on the verge of tears, before blinking them away. “I’m sorry. I wish I could protect you.”

“You’re my friend! My first friend! I think that’s more than enough to make me feel better.” He smiled, but it didn’t seem to work. She still seemed sad.

They were silent, before Robin pointed at the remaining crows on his shoulder. “Hey, can I try again?”

“Of course!”

They spent the rest of their time trying to get the crows to fly to Robin’s shoulders. They all ended up flying away, but Robin seemed happy, so he didn't worry too much. A couple of hours later, he waved good-bye to her on the bridge, tired but happy. It seemed more for his sake than hers that she cut their meeting short, for she kept reminding him he had class tomorrow morning.

As he ran back through the town, down the tunnel, and into his room, an ember of happiness burned within him. His first friend! Hopefully… things would be different with her. She wouldn’t hate him, no matter what he did, right?


	2. Crows and Coins

_ Robin. _

__

Her name tasted sweet on his tongue. He couldn’t get her off his mind. Already he was looking forward to when the sun set, and he could run from the school and see her at the bridge.

__

He wished he could sleep the day away. He wished he didn’t have to go to school. There was nothing for him there, other than magic. The teachers watched him with wary, frightened eyes, and the other boys whispered about him behind his back. The teachers liked to find any excuse to hit him, no matter how well he did in class. It was like they were trying to beat out the ugly things they saw in him.

__

He didn’t care about people like them. They were nothing. He was used to the pain, to the point where even blows from the thickest, sturdiest ruler against his hands and back did nothing to him. He had finally found a friend! How could anything bother him anymore?

__

That night, when he slipped away from the school, he brought a few gold coins with him. Back in his home village, the people living there had pressed it into his hands and begged him not to come back. They’d feared him, the little boy with no parents, who had a strong affinity for dark magic.

__

He’d taken the coins, and they’d been like a curse to him ever since. They were proof of how no one wanted him. Strange how people thought a few coins were worth the life of a child.

__

No matter. He refused to let the pain and fear from the village people haunt him any longer. Today, the coins would be curses no longer. They’d be regular coins again.

__

As he ran through the city, the usual flock of crows flew with him. He took it as a good sign, for he remembered how much Robin liked them.

__

But when he got to the bridge, he swore his heart stopped. No one was  _ there _ . He looked around frantically.  _ Ah _ , now his heart was working again. It was pumping erratically, filling his ears. His hands trembled, and he wondered if yesterday was a dream.

__

Maybe Robin didn’t exist. Maybe she did exist, and she didn’t want to see him again. Maybe he was wrong to believe that anyone could care about him. Maybe it was the coins, and they really were cursed with the pain and fear of the villagers.

__

What should he do? It hurt too much to go to the school now. 

__

A crow landed on his shoulder, and he stroked its head absently. At least he still had his best friends with him.

__

As he stood,  lost in a daze, a million thoughts running and tripping through his mind, a hooded figure appeared over the bridge. The world froze, just for an instant, as Henry watched the stranger.

__

A beam of moonlight illuminated a short strand of silvery hair, and the world continued turning. He ran to the hooded figure, which he now knew was Robin, and he smiled without even having to remember to do so.

__

“Robin!”

__

“Henry,” she whispered, her voice like a weak breeze.

__

He paused, and his happiness faltered. Robin shivered. Her shoulders were hunched, and she seemed so small, even smaller than the night before. 

__

“What’s wrong? Did someone hurt you? I’ll hurt them, if they did, just--”

__

“No!” Robin’s voice was sudden and loud.

__

“No?” Did he say something wrong? His eyes went wide with worry and shame, and Robin took a big, shuddering breath.

__

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell… I…” Robin scrubbed her eyes roughly with the back of her hand. Was she crying? “Don’t hurt anyone. I don’t… want to see anyone hurt.”

__

“Are you okay?” 

__

“... I’ll be okay.”

__

“But… you’re not okay right now?”

__

“Some… stuff happened.”

__

“Do you want a crow?”

__

“They don’t like me.”

__

“They’re just wary of you.”

__

Robin shook her head violently, squeezing her eyes shut. When she opened them, tears fell out. Big, wet drops slipped down her cheeks, without her permission.. “No. They’re afraid of me. Every animal is afraid of me.”

__

“That’s okay. Some people just aren’t animal people!”

__

“It’s more than that. It’s because of who I am.” Then, without another word, she gently raised her hand to the crow on his shoulder. The crow stiffened and as soon as she got close enough to touch it, it flew away.

__

“Well, they probably aren’t used to you.”

__

“I used to come here every night. They used to fly away as soon as they saw me, and it was only ‘cause I gave them food that they let me come near them. But they still won’t trust me.”

__

“They still need time to get to know you.”

__

“It’s because they hate me.”

__

“Don’t say that! Let’s keep trying, okay? They’re just shy.”

__

Robin sniffled. “I wish they liked me.”

__

“Don’t worry. They will! And… I like you.”

__

At his words, Robin wiped her tears away again. This time, she gave him a small, wavering smile. “Okay. Thank you, Henry.”

__

“What else are friends for?”

__

With that said, he nudged the crow from his shoulder onto his hand, and held it out to Robin. She hesitated before bringing up her hand. It tilted its head at him, and took one tentative step onto her hand-- before flying away as soon as its claws brushed against the fabric of her glove.

__

Robin watched it fly away. He wondered if she was going to cry, if he had done something wrong, but she only let out a small sigh. “That’s a bit closer than yesterday.”

__

“Yeah! See, it only takes time.”

__

They smiled at each other. Her eyes were still red and puffy, but at least she wasn’t crying. That was when he remembered the coins jingling in his pockets. Oh! Maybe he could buy Robin something!

__

“Robin, are you hungry?”

__

“A little. Why?”

__

“Let’s get something to eat!”

__

“Do you have money, Henry?”

__

“Yup. So let’s go!”

__

“Wait a bit.” Robin brushed the loose strands of hair back into her hood, and pulled it lower over her head.

__

With that, they were off. He’d only been across the bridge once: when he had first entered the city. He knew the older boys at schools liked to cross often, to eat good food and find cute girls. It was where the more well-off people lived.

__

The other side of town was cleaner than he thought it’d be. The buildings were large, roomy, and weathered a pleasant brown from constant wind and sand. The streets were wide, made of cobblestone that wasn’t dirty or broken. Oh, and the people! There weren’t many, but the ones he saw were dressed stylishly. Many of the shops were closed, but the few that were open had shiny glass windows and mellow lighting. The food stalls were made of polished wood and awnings colored in candy reds or egg blue. The people running the stalls looked friendly instead of wary, unlike the vendors in his side of town.

__

“Robin, do you know where you want to get food?”

__

“Yeah. Have you ever been here before?”

__

“No.”

__

“Then follow me!”

__

“What if we get lost?”

__

“Then… hold my hand?”

__

“I’ve never held anyone’s hand before.”

__

“It’s okay. Me neither.”

__

She paused to offer him her gloved hand, and he took it immediately. Wait, where should he put his fingers? How did you do this? It took them a few seconds of fumbling before he slipped his fingers around hers. 

__

His hand was sweaty, but thankfully Robin was wearing gloves. Her glove was worn and smooth, and he suspected she wore them often. What did her regular hand feel like? 

__

“What do you want to eat, Henry?”

__

“Me? I’m buying this for you.”

__

“But you should eat something too! Otherwise I’d feel bad and I won’t let you buy me anything.”

__

“Well… I like vegetables.”

__

“Oh… I like meat.”

__

“I don't really like meat. It makes me feel bad, because of all my animal friends…”

__

“What about sweets?”

__

“Those are good! But do stalls really sell sweets?”

__

“Not at this hour. Um… what about fruit?”

__

He paused to think it over. “Yeah! That sounds good.”

__

Robin lead him past the stalls, and Henry tried to keep track, but he got lost after the third left turn. All the stalls looked the same to him, but he supposed they couldn’t all sell the same thing. Finally, Robin stopped in front of a cactus green stall, where rows of cut fruit were on display. There were pieces of dried fig, dates and plums stuck on wooden sticks, but the one that most drew Henry’s attention was the single stick of fresh, golden mango. 

__

The man sitting behind the stall was reading a book, and only spared them a brief glance before returning to it. The night cast his face in shadow.

__

“Robin…” Henry whispered.

__

“Yeah?” she whispered back.

__

“Do you like mangoes?”

__

“Do you want the mango one? Because I want that one, too!”

__

“Then I’ll get it.” He cleared his throat. “S-sir?”

__

“What?” The man closed his book, and squinted at them. “Kind of young to be here alone, huh, kids?”

__

“Our parents sent us here. We wanted to get a snack before going to bed, and they said it was okay,” Robin said smoothly. Henry stared at her in shock. Wow, she was a good actress.

__

“All right, but go on home as soon as you’re done. This isn’t the worst part of town, but it can be dangerous.”

__

Henry wanted to laugh, but he smiled, instead. “Okay. So can we have the mango?”

__

“Sure, kid. You have the money?”

__

Henry didn’t respond as he fumbled with the pockets of his trousers. He took out the coin pouch. It looked dirty and old, and was tied with a string. He’d come a long way from the village. 

__

Opening the pouch, he gave the man all the coins. The man carefully handed him the mango stick, and made to give Henry his change. He shook his head. “Keep it.”

__

“Suit yourself.” The man returned to his book. Robin and Henry exchanged excited glances, and dashed off.

__

They didn’t stop running until they were at the bridge again. The whole time, Robin kept tight hold of his hand, and Henry kept tight hold of the mango stick. They giggled as they shared pieces of the sliced mango. Each bite was cool, refreshing, sweet. It was gone in an instant, and Henry wished he had enough money for a dozen more. Robin had finally took off her gloves to eat the mango. Why did she keep her hands in gloves? From what he could tell, they looked normal. 

__

“That was fun,” she said finally, when there was nothing left of their adventure but a stick.

__

“It was. Do you feel better?”

__

“Yeah. Thank you.”

__

“Any time,” he replied seriously. “I want you to be happy.”

__

Robin looked down at her hands, curling them into fists before she spoke. “... My mom got hurt today. It wasn’t anything bad, but… it was my fault. My mom… is really nice. She loves me a lot. Thanks for being here. I’m not really… I don’t like talking about my family.” Robin took a breath, as if she wanted to say more. Then, as if she thought better of it, she put her gloves back on again. 

__

“Don’t worry! We’ll see each other again tomorrow, right?”

__

“Yup! I’ll see you here tomorrow.”

__

Robin ran back in the direction they had just come from, and Henry ran towards the school. They were almost off the bridge before he turned, and yelled, “The crows are going to be your friends!”

__

She turned at his shout, a shadow in the moonlight. “Are you sure?”

__

“Of course!”

__


	3. A Touch of Magic

His hands were ugly.

That was his first thought when he reached the bridge that night. His second thought was, how on earth was he going to hide them?

Robin would surely notice if he kept his hands in his pockets the whole time, or if he refused to show them.

More than that, he feared what she would think if she saw them. Even after their first two nights together, even after their adventures and promises, he was still scared of her leaving him. After all, Robin was lovely and kind, and he… he was not. They were still strangers and there was still so much to learn and talk about with each other. He wanted to close the gap between them as quickly as he could, so that there was not so much as a crack between them. And yet, there were things he had done that she might hate him for.

He had never worried about any of this before he met Robin. Henry had never bothered to care about what other people had thought of him, not when they all hated him. But it was different now. He was different now. It felt like she had changed his entire perspective on his life with a smile and a stick of mango.

But Robin was a friend he could only meet in the night, like a wonderful dream. In the sunlight, where all the monsters roamed, was where his real life was. His school, old and decrepit, was his life-- his past, his present, his future.

Everyone there was cruel. It was easier to laugh at someone else so that the laughter did not fall upon yourself. Every day he walked a razor’s edge. Henry was the biggest target and laughingstock. His teachers punished him, his classmates avoided him, and everyone blamed him for his own injuries. And… they were all scared of him. Scared that if they hung around him for too long, they, too, would end up with ugly hands.

He shuddered. For now, he would just have to shove them into his pockets. He winced as he did so; his wounds were still tender and sore. Normally he would have not felt the pain, but this time they had been hurt so deeply, even his bones ached.

“Henry!” Not a moment too soon, Robin darted across the bridge, calling out his name in a sweet voice.

“Robin!” he called back. There was no greater pleasure than being able to call your friend’s name.

“Hey, hey.”

“I missed you,” he whispered.

“I missed you too!”

“Do you want to play with the crows?”

“Not right now.” She hesitated. “Um, Henry.... Do you like magic? I know your school is an awful place, and they don’t treat you well, and I don’t know if you even like what they teach, but…”

He stilled. He had not expected her to bring up that place so soon. His hands seemed to burn at her words. “Yeah, it’s an awful place.”

“So, um, you don’t like magic, then?”

“I do. I mean, I don’t? I don’t not like it… I mean, I like it.”

“You do? Okay.”

“Why’d you want to know?”

“Just because. I don’t need a reason for everything.” She stuck her tongue out at him childishly.

“Okay.”

“Then let’s play with the crows!”

Henry opened his mouth, ready to agree, before he remembered his hands. His ugly, ugly hands. The hands he would have to show if he played with the crows. “Not today.”

“What do you mean?”

“We can’t… I can’t… play with them. But if you want to, then go ahead!”

“But it’s pointless if it’s not with you.”

“Oh.” The thought made his heart flutter.

“But why not? They’re your friends.”

“Because…” He struggled to come up with a good excuse. “Because… I’m tired.”

“Tired? Then do you want to go home and rest?”

“No! I want to talk to you.”

Robin eyed him suspiciously. “Are you telling me the truth?”

“Y… N… Maybe.”

“Henry, we’re friends. You can tell me anything. But if you don’t want to, then I won’t ask again. What’s going on?”

He sighed. He hated lying, and he hated lying to Robin, but he didn’t want her to see his hands. “Um…”

“Yes?”

“Well, today at school…” He spoke each word as slowly as possible, but Robin waited for him.

“What happened at school?”

“Today… I… I made a mistake on my lesson.”

“And?”

He hesitated. He could make up an excuse. He could run. He could fake his death on the spot to avoid telling her the truth. But Robin wasn’t like everyone else. She was his friend. And friends didn’t lie to each other. “They burned me.”

“What?”

“On my hands. For a long time. It kind of hurt at first, but then I ran them under cold water, so they feel better now.”

“Oh no…” Robin’s eyes turned glassy. “Your poor hands. Are you okay? Did you go to a healer?”

“Nope! The school cleric was out on business. She only comes in several days a week, but it’s not like there’s blood, or…”

“Henry! Let me see your hands, now!” Robin interrupted.

“It’s okay! They’re mostly healed now! It doesn’t hurt, promise.”

“That’s not the point! You’re hurt! I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“But it was my fault. I got the lesson wrong.”

Robin shook her head vehemently. “No! You don’t deserve to be hurt for making a mistake! Your teachers are the ones who are wrong. It’s never your fault, Henry, if someone else hurts you!”

He only waited a second longer before taking out his hands and slowly curling them open. Under the moonlight, they looked raw and sore, skin peeling away. Blisters has formed on his palms, and his skin was a bright, glowing red.

At the sight of them, Robin covered her mouth. She looked… horrified. Horrified for him, not of him.

Ah. She had proved it, time and time again. She cared. She… didn’t think his hands were ugly. She didn’t think he was ugly. She didn’t hate him.

“Don’t worry, okay? I’m used to it.”

“But you shouldn’t be! You shouldn’t have to be… I wish we could run away, and just leave all of this behind us.”

Oh. She was sad. Her glimmering eyes looked to be holding back tears, and the sight tugged at his own heart. It made him feel weak and uncertain and scared. Why did he always make her sad? What could he do to make her feel better?

There was only one thing he had ever been good at.

With a whispered word, magic gathered in the palm of his hand, and a flame flickered to life. Its glow danced around his fingers, illuminating the world around them a little more clearly. With another whisper, the flame sprang higher, and he could feel its heat on his face.

“Henry? What are you doing?”

“Oh. Um… trying to make you feel better?”

“Aren’t you scared of the fire? You were hurt because of it.”

“Not really. I’m used to the pain. Besides, I like magic. And this is my magic, not theirs.”

“I see. It’s pretty.”

“Yeah!”

Robin seem entranced by the flame. Its light reflected in her eyes, and Henry was loathe to end the moment, but he couldn’t keep it up forever. He closed his hand over the flame, and it was snuffed out as if it had never existed.

“Henry, you’re talented.”

“Do you think so?” Her compliment made his heart soar. Her words were genuine.

“I know so.”

Robin was quiet for a moment. “Henry, this is a weird question, but can I ask you anyways?”

“Of course!”

“If someone’s done something bad, do you think they deserve forgiveness?”

“No. Of course not.” He shoves his hands back into his pockets, out of sight, the burns stinging against rough fabric. “If they’ve done something bad, then they don’t deserve anything, especially not forgiveness. They might want it, but they don’t deserve it.”

“Well, what does being bad even mean? Hurting someone else? Being a terrible person? Stealing?”

“Being a bad person is hurting others on purpose, I think. Knowing what you’re doing is wrong… and still doing it, anyways.”

Robin stood. “Okay, thanks. Forget I asked. Let me go buy something for your burns.”

She strode down the bridge without a backwards glance, and Henry ran to catch up. They ventured into the same part of town as last night, except this time, Robin made him wait outside a restaurant while she went in to buy something. He fidgeted on the street, feeling tiny and exposed, fighting the urge to pull his hood up. That’ve just made him seem suspicious.

When Robin finally emerged, she carried two containers. She beckoned him to follow her down the street. Henry was sure she was taking him back to the bridge, only she turned at the last minute, and started walking down the side of the river instead of across it.

The riverbank was covered in sand. The water rushed past them serenely, glinting under the moonlight. She found a spot on the ground and patted the place next to her, looking up at Henry with a question in her eyes.

He sat in the spot next to her, lowering himself to the ground with a fwump. For a moment, they both admired the glow of the river, saying nothing. Robin handed him one of the containers. He held it in his hands for a moment, relishing the surprisingly frosty feel of it, which soothed his burned hands. He popped open the lid. A small mound of a frozen, mango-colored treat stared back at him. In delight, he put a finger in it. It was cool and numbed his finger.

“Robin, what is this?”

“It’s ice cream,” she replied.

“Oh. Wow.”

“Have you never had it before?”

“Nope, not really. I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never actually… seen it.”

“Well congratulations on your first ice cream!” Robin said with cheer.

“Congratulations,” he echoed her.

She handed him a spoon and together they ate ice cream by the banks of the river. There was nothing but silence. Henry was surprised by how comforting silence could be with the right person.

Their parting came sooner than he wanted it to. Robin took his cup and promised to throw it away, chattering about the moon and where ice cream came from as they walked back to the bridge. They stood for a moment there, awkwardly waiting for the other to make a move. With great reluctance, Henry finally waved goodbye to her; he didn’t want to keep her there any longer.

When he got back to his dorm, he let fire dance around his fingers in bright, bursting sparks. He wanted to see Robin’s smile, not her tears. To do that, he would have to control his magic much better than before. No one would try to hurt him if they knew he could hurt them, too. He would also have to get used to burns, to the point that he would no longer feel them. He would not let anything hurt him. That way, Robin would stop shedding tears over his injuries and pain.

Smile, smile, he thought, so it would numb the pain, so Robin would not be afraid to smile, too.


	4. For You

His hands would have no scars. 

Henry turned them over in the moonlight, marveling at how quickly the pain had faded. No matter how roughly he treated them, they did not sting. They were still red and raw and blistered, but they were not ugly, not anymore. It looked like they would heal evenly, so the burns would only remain in his memories.

He was glad. He did not want any reminders of his time at school to mark him in any way. As soon as he was able to, he would escape. Perhaps he could become apprentice to a stronger mage, or join the Plegian army. They were always hungry for promising recruits. But those were worries for another time.

For now, he would wait for Robin. His favorite time of the night had arrived. 

Henry felt recklessly happy, to the point that he did not bother to pull up his hood. He danced around on light feet, as if gravity had no hold on him. The crows swirled around him, squeaking softly in joy, nibbling affectionately at his ears and strands of his hair. 

“What are you doing?”

He stilled at the sound of a familiar voice, a wide smile cracking his face. He smiled so often these days; it unnerved his classmates, for no matter how they taunted at him, he would only react with a grin. How strange the gesture was once clunky and unnatural on him.

“Having fun!” he called back, and as soon as Robin stepped near him, the crows scattered.

“I’m glad,” she said sincerely.

“And you?” As Henry turned to fully face her, he saw something lumpy under her cloak, though it was too covered to properly see what it was.

“I come because it’s fun here.”

“Me too.”

They were quiet for just a moment, enough for Henry to drink in the sight of her. Robin always wore her hood up, casting her face in shadow, and he was not yet familiar enough with her features that he could map the shape of it from memory. Strands of fine silver hair escaped from the confines of her hood, and her arms were wrapped tightly around the lumpy part of her cloak.

“What do you have?” Henry asked idly.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you holding something under your coat?”

“I might be,” Robin conceded, a pout on her face.

“Sorry, should I not have asked what it is?”

“No, no, it’s okay! I wanted it to be a surprise.”

A spark of curiosity ignited within Henry at her words. “A surprise? Why?”

Robin fiddled with her hands, tapping them together. “Well… remember when I asked you yesterday if you liked magic?”

“Yeah! What does that have to do with anything, though?”

“Um… I might have… gotten you a present.”

“A present?” It seemed odd that Robin would want to get him anything, when these late nights together were a gift given to him everyday. 

“Yup. I thought you would like it.”

With that, Robin took out a parcel wrapped in lumpy brown paper. When the paper fell away, it left a set of spell books in her hand. Even in the dark, Henry could see how the moonlight gleamed over the embossed pages and golden lettering. There were three books, one in a royal yellow, and the other two in a deep green and vivid red respectively. They were so lovely that he knew immediately they cost more money than he had ever seen.

“These are really cool! They must’ve cost  a lot of money… Where did you get these?” Henry inquired hesitantly.

Robin tensed. “I… I got them… from my dad.”

“He gave you these for free?” He couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice; from what little Robin had said about her father, he had seemed like a distant monster.

“Not… exactly.”

“Oh… then you…”

“I stole them,” Robin said bluntly, her grip tightening on the books. “It’s not like he deserves to have these.”

Henry frowned. “But...”

“He doesn't deserve them!” Robin snapped loudly. Her voice echoed across the bridge.

“Robin? Are you okay? I didn’t mean… You know him better than I do, so…”

“No, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to yell at you,” she said, more softly now. “He makes me so angry sometimes.”

“That’s okay. Can I look at these books?” Henry said. He wanted to change the topic as soon as he could.

“Of course!” She handed him a spell book, and he took a moment to hold it reverently in his hands. It was beautiful, much different from the old, torn books he usually got at school.

He flipped open the book; it fit his hand perfectly. Each page seemed to hum a tune only he could hear, beckoning him closer with their secrets. Oh, how he wanted to listen, and obey, and learn these beautiful spells.

With one hand still gripping the book, he raised the other. Pointing at a spot over the river, he whispered a spell. A sudden blast of wind spiraled from his hand and fizzled out over the water.

“Wow,” Robin murmured, watching the spot where the wind had faded. “It’s beautiful.”

“Do you know magic, Robin?” Henry asked, already itching to try out a thunder spell.

“A little bit,” Robin said, pressing her lips together in a white line. “I don’t like practicing it myself, though.”

“Why not?” Henry grabbed another book, and in the next instance, an arc of thunder flew into the sky.

“... It’s because of my dad.” Robin’s face was still turned toward the river, so he could only see the shadows of her expression. Yet, Henry sensed these words were like stones, heavy in her mouth.

“Your dad?” Henry sent a streak of fire down the river, careful not to burn the flowers trailing on the bridge.

“Yeah. He’s good at magic. He uses it to hurt people. To hurt… my mom. I think he wants me to be good at it, too. I think he wants me to hurt other people like him. But I don’t want to. I don’t want to be like him!” Her voice rose in pitch at the end, containing a silent plea to any gods that were willing to listen. 

“You won’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you’re a good person. Anyways, I don’t think people who hurt others care about what they do,” Henry said resolutely.

“How? How can you be so sure?”

“I haven’t done very nice things, either. I know what a bad person looks like. And you aren’t one of them.”

“Henry, I--”

“Hey!” The shout was jarring. “What are you brats doing here?”

They both froze. This bridge was theirs. In the night, they could pretend to be anything they wanted. 

But a man was striding across the bridge. He was nothing but a dark blob, covered by a long, dragging cloak.  

Robin’s head was cocked, her gaze narrowed as she squinted at the man. Henry could almost sense the gears turning in her brain, her mind racing in a thousand different directions. Still, her form trembled. The man was a rock who had thrown ripples into her confidence. 

His mind raced, too. Henry was no stranger to malice, and it was hard to mistake the contempt in the man’s voice. 

As the man drew closer, Henry could make out more details. The man’s hood was dark, embroidered by purple designs. Cold eyes glinted under the moon. The man had a scar running under his cheek. 

“No,” Robin whispered. Her tone was distant and pleading. “No, no. Not here.”

Her fear was all the incentive Henry needed to heft up his spell book. Now, he felt ridiculously small and weak under the weight of the beautiful book. He was no real mage. He didn’t have the power to wield it properly.

He had promised to himself that he wanted to see her smile. It was with that he found his voice. “What do you want?”

“What are you planning on doing with that book, brat? Don’t you know it’s against the rules to do magic this late at night? One might suspect you’re up to something suspicious.” 

Henry’s stomach clenched. He was a fool, an utter, careless fool. He shouldn’t have let his joy carry him away. He shouldn’t have forgotten how dangerous Plegia was.

“I’m just… practicing. I didn’t mean to break any rules.”

The man shrugged, his eyes focused on the beautiful book in Henry’s hands. “Brats like you shouldn’t be practicing here. You could hurt someone. If you give me those books, we can call it even, eh? I won’t report you.”

“Leave him alone,” Robin said, voice small, quiet. 

“Huh? Why should I? Who even are you to tell me what to--” The man turned to Robin, and his eyes widened. His arm reached out, as if to pull Robin away. “Wait a moment. What are you doing here?”

It was in that moment Henry did not think. He could only see Robin’s terror, and the man’s malice. His hand outstretched, he whispered one spell, and a burst of fire spewed from his palm, headed directly for the man. 

“No!” He did not think, but Robin did. She shoved his arm aside at the last moment, so sparks only grazed the man’s hood.

A sooty stain marked the top of the bridge. Blackened flowers and vines shriveled around the area as if in fear. It was marred by the blast of fire he had intended to hit the man.

“What the hell were you trying to do, huh, you little brat?” The man had regained his composure, and fury permeated his voice.

“Run!” Robin yelled, shoving him down the bridge with such force he felt bruises forming.

“But I can’t--”

“Go!”

He grabbed her left hand. Robin yelped in surprise. “Come with me, please,” he begged.

She looked at him sadly. “I can’t.”

“But--”

She shoved him again, yanking her hand quickly out of his. As she did so, her glove rumpled around her fingers, and he saw a flash of a purple mark on her hand.

“I’ll see you again,” she whispered. “Please, go. I’ll be okay.”

He wished her words of reassurance hadn’t sounded so final. He wished he hadn’t run. He wished his last glimpse of Robin hadn’t been her back to him, shoulders resolute and so, so small.

That night, as he slipped back into his room, body trembling, spell books clutched tightly to his chest, he stayed awake until morning light shone through his window. He breezed through classes, more of a ghost than a student, unable to stop thinking about what had happened.

When he went to the bridge that night, he waited until the sun dressed the sky in rose. 

Robin did not come.


	5. Don't Let Go

Guilt tore at Henry whenever panic did not have him in its clutches. What happened to Robin? Where was she? Was she hurt? Why did he leave her behind? 

Each night, he waited for her at their bridge. He stayed for as long as he dared, chattering with the crows, feeding them bits of food. Each night she did not come. Several times, he waited until dawn painted the sky, and he was forced to return to the school.

He could hardly concentrate on his classes at this point. He dozed off throughout the day, left in a foggy stupor on the edge of sleep. He kept his mouth shut, and his gaze down. He did not feel the pain of the beatings he took anymore, did not feel the sting of other’s words. Something in him had dulled without the warmth of Robin’s smile.

Pain, his teachers liked to tell him, made people strong. He wasn’t sure he agreed. Sometimes, pain just left people broken.

Henry was sick of pain, and heartache, and bruises. He wanted nothing more than those wonderful nights with Robin, the way conversation flowed as steadily as the river; he wanted the crows, the presents, the unconditional affection he had never received with anyone else. 

He kept the spellbooks she had given him in his room, underneath his mattress. Henry had no doubt a teacher, or a student, would take it from him if he flaunted them in public. He could not bring himself to use them, either. They were a present from Robin, and if he used them up, then would proof would he have of her existence?

Henry wondered if he was cursed. Shouldn’t he be used to this by now? It seemed the only thing he could do was hurt the people who loved him. Maybe he shouldn’t have left the school. Maybe he shouldn’t have thought he deserved anything more. He was tired, so tired, of this. Maybe Robin had been hurt. Maybe she had been killed. And it would be all his fault. 

There were so many things Henry should have done differently. He should have stayed with her, he should have fought the man, he should have fired another spell at him and watch him burn. No matter what happened again, he would protect her, once he found her. He would not lose anyone else he loved.

One more night he greeted the moon as he rose from his bed, his thoughts pushing him into a sleepless haze. The city, normally so bright and bustling, was silent. Those who walked the streets did so with a hood over their faces, and a quickened pace. The brightly colored stalls were gone, homes were shuttered and closed, and the few restaurants that were open hummed with an uneasy atmosphere. The war effort, he had heard, was not going well. A few of his elder classmates had already been recruited into the army.

He arrived at the bridge, throwing pieces of his leftover lunch at the crows, who had flooded the bridge in an inky black. It had gotten riskier to sneak out. It felt like the city was walking on a wire. The first person to trip up would send them all tumbling down.

A crow flew on his shoulder, nuzzling into his cheek. He carefully stroked its smooth feathers, sighing. It gave one low croak before it took off. It sounded like a warning. The other crows fell silent, and stilled. Henry’s heart started pounding, his palms sweating. He looked into the distance, unsurprised by what he saw.

A lone figure, trailing across the bridge. The moon shone like a spotlight down on the purple of the figure’s hood and robes. If he squinted, he could almost make out a long scar across the man’s cheek.

“You guys should go,” Henry murmured to the crows. They flew, a dizzying cloud of black, and Henry pressed a hand to the spell book he had hidden under his cloak, feeling the embossed gold. He was curiously empty. No malice, no fear. Nothing at all.

Henry counted the steps until he was in view of the man. The man seemed to pause when he saw Henry. Did he recognize the boy who had tried to kill him?

“Move,” he said.

Perhaps not. Henry did not respond.

The man let out a sigh of impatience. “Move, kid. It’s dangerous out here. You want to be able to go home, nice and safe, right?”

“Where is Robin?” Henry said.

“What?”

“My friend. Robin.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Why would I know where a random kid is?”

“A couple of weeks ago,” he says softly. “We were here. And I haven’t seen her since.”

The man paused, recognition glinting dully in his eyes. “Kid, I’m losing my patience here. I don’t know shit about your friend, okay? She’s gone, so who cares?” He took one step. Then another.

Henry pulled out his spellbook, his heart twisting. “Don’t walk away.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

And now Henry sensed it. Malice, annoyance. The stare of another bully. 

This man has a family Henry reminded himself, his hand slowly flipping open the pages of the spellbook. People who loved him, people who he loved in turn.

But what did it matter? Horrible people may have had love and families, but they were still horrible people.

Robin would’ve stopped him.

Robin wasn’t here.

Henry waited until the man was almost upon him before he murmured a fire spell.

The fire was a sudden beacon lighting up the deserted bridge, a comet in the river’s surface. It propelled the man backwards. There was the smell of smoke, and burnt flesh.

The man screamed, and screamed, and didn’t stop. “You brat! You shitty brat! I’ll kill you!”

Henry closed his eyes. He thought of mango, and crows, and ice cream. And he thought, too, of coins, of his village, of people who begged him to never come back. Hadn’t he felt this before? The pain of losing loved ones? 

Something in him shriveled. Smile. He needed to smile. Smile past it all.

“You shouldn’t have hurt her,” he said, grinning.

“That stupid girl? I couldn’t hurt her if I wanted to!” the man said, panting, trembling. “Her father must’ve been the one to teach her a lesson.”

His hands tightened on his spellbook, his palms sweating. “Where is she? Is she okay?”

“None of your business, brat,” the man spat. “You shouldn’t have done this. The Grimleal will never forgive you for hurting one of their own.” 

“Okay,” he said. “But I won’t forgive you for hurting her.”

He opened his mouth to cast another spell, but the man simply laughed. “You’re a real monster, huh? Smiling? Just a kid and you’re ready to kill someone?” His mouth twisted. “You piece of shit. This is what Plegia is now, huh?.”

Henry’s mouth was dry, his tongue swollen, his lips still pulled upwards. Monster. Was that what he was? Could he learn to enjoy the smell of burnt flesh? Would Robin forgive him if he did? Would people turn him away again? If those boys at school saw him now, would they still taunt him, or would fear fill their eyes? How could he hurt someone, even if it was out of anger and impulse? 

What was the right thing to do? Was he even in the right?

The book was still open on his palm. He had to make his choice, or else-- It was in that moment something dark descended from the sky, a swirling mass of black, a feathered cloud that cawed and gleamed.

The crows.

They filled the air, his friends, flying, surrounding him, and the man’s startled cry was lost amidst the storm of birds. Tears pricked his eyes. They had come back for him. They were always there for him. That's what friends did, and he was blessed with the best ones.

A crow landed on his shoulder, nibbled at his hair affectionately. 

It would be all right. He would be all right. Even if he had done something unforgivable, even if he was a monster, they hadn’t abandoned him. Even if the world turned their back on him, he would still be all right as long as the crows called to him. 

Perhaps one day, he would learn to kill with a smile. For now, he could be a child a while longer.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and he turned, and ran. He shut the spellbook, slipped it underneath his cloak. Back to school, back to bed, and when the moon rose again, he would find Robin.

He had a name now. The Grimleal.


	6. You and Me

The world was against Henry finding his best friend. At least, that was what it felt like. It had taken Henry a week to gather as much information as he could. The Grimleal were mysterious, and the more he dug, the less he found. When he had posed his questions to the teachers, they had curtly told him that bad things happened to little boys who knew too much. His classmates had snickered. They fed him lies and rumors that finally forced him out on the streets, listening to conversations that drifted out of the windows of taverns. He crouched underneath, hiding in the shadows, hoping for any hint of what he was searching for. 

It was on the seventh night that he found the courage to even approach the door to a tavern, where, more than once, the patrons inside complained about the Grimleal. The building was noisy, and the smell of ale and hot food drifted outside, carried by peals of raucous laughter. Henry could make nothing out but a crack of bright, harsh yellow light underneath the rough door. He gulped, fidgeting with the hem of his cloak, looking up at the sky for comfort. His crows were perched on the roof, watching him with warm, inky eyes, and the moon was anxiously hidden somewhere beyond the reach of his sight.

Pulling the hood of his cloak lower over his head, Henry gripped the handle of the door as firmly as he could, and pulled, feeling the strain as it created an opening large enough for him to stumble through.

He looked around quickly. White-hot flames were encased in lanterns that somehow still kept the room in shadow, so he could barely make out the faces of people nearby. Everywhere there were cracked tables and chairs, sagging with dirty glasses and the weight of a dozen years of use.

“What’d you want?” An irritated voice called, and he turned. There was a woman standing in front of him. Slim and tall, in a plain brown dress and a stained apron, the only feature Henry could make out was her hair. It was made of fire, braided messily down her shoulder. “No kids allowed.”

“Let off. The kid’s just curious,” a man roared from a nearby table. “Every child needs space to explore and grow, eh?”

“This is a place for paying customers only,” the woman said evenly. “I doubt you can afford anything. So get lost.”

“I-I won’t bother you for too long,” Henry began, as the woman began to turn, “I just… um… I heard someone mention the Grimleal. In here. I… was hoping… I could learn some more.”

Henry had expected anything: silence, threats, even a hidden Grimleal member to leap out and began throwing spells at him. Instead, the patrons who could hear his inquiry burst into laughter. The woman in front was immobile.

“There’s nothing to be said about that crazy lot,” she said coldly. “What, you planning on joining them? You won’t find any sympathy here.”

“No! I- I don’t like them either. They just… they have my friend,” he said desperately. “I need to find her, and I need to learn more about them.”

The woman laughed. “What makes you so certain she wants you to find her? Maybe she joined them on purpose. Either way, kid… if I tell you about them, will you leave?”

“She wouldn’t join on purpose,” Henry muttered. 

“Do you want to hear about them or not?”

“Yes!”

“Well, there’s not much to be said about them. A bunch of crazies, worshipping some god of destruction. They were just something to laugh at, at least until their leader started getting cozy with the crown. It doesn’t matter to people like us either way, huh?” 

“Thank you,” Henry said. 

“Leave,” the woman said curtly.

Henry shoved open the door again, his steps light as he dashed down the street. The echo of noise trailed after him, as crows darted through the air. He didn’t need to think about where he was going, not to this place. In a few more minutes, he was at the bridge. He allowed himself to slow to a stop just before he crossed it.

Henry had only the loosest framework on the Grimleal, tattered bits of information and rumors he had hoped were real enough to base his plans on. He could only hope Robin was safe if she was with them: that she was with the mother she loved so much, and her monster of a father had not hurt her.

There was so much Henry didn’t know about Robin. What were her hobbies, her favorite colors and books? What had happened to her family? How was she involved with the Grimleal? Why did she wear gloves all the time? Why, oh, why, had she decided to stay behind at the bridge that night? 

But it didn’t matter, not really. Even if Henry didn’t know everything about Robin, even if they were both hiding secrets from each other, they were still best friends. He knew the most important things about her: she was kind, and vocal, and a good liar. She believed in justice, and worried over whether she was a good enough person. She was strong. And wasn’t it enough to know who a person was inside?

If she fell, he would help her up. If she was sad, he would joke until she smiled. And there was no doubt Robin would do the same for him, always.

With no hesitation, Henry flew across the bridge. The only things he knew about Robin was that she lived somewhere over on the other side of town. It would take him hours to find her if he searched by himself, but… he looked up at the crows. 

“Will you guys please help me find Robin?” They scattered, swooping down streets and alleys in all different directions, as if they had been waiting for him to ask.

Henry walked, slowly, on the main road, peering at houses and the spaces behind them. Henry couldn’t be sure of what he was looking for. He was running on a thinnest sliver of hope. He had no choice but to go on.

Hours trickled by as he walked. Henry was lost in a maze of nice houses and paved streets. It was frightening, somehow, more so than the dirty ones he was used to. At least the people on his side of town wouldn’t hide the fact they were horrible. Even his teachers did not pretend to be nicer than they were. But anything could lurk behind a polished facade.

Hours later, Henry was getting nowhere. He would have to go back to school soon, and his chest burned. More lonely days, more empty nights.

And then, imperceptibly, he felt a tug on the back of his cloak. He spun around, and a crow cawed softly at him, tangling itself in his hood and hair. “Hey, that’s tickly!”

The crow shook itself, and took off. Could it be…? Henry couldn’t breath as he ran after it. It flew quickly through the tangled knot of streets, left, right, right, left, until he was dizzy and certain he would never make it back to school, until the crow perched on the top of a windowsill of a tiny house. It was squished between its neighbors, trying to stay out of sight. The crow looked down on him as he struggled, panting, up to it. 

Henry stood on his toes and peeked his head over the window ledge. If it turned out to be a stranger’s house, well, hopefully no one would see him.

There was nothing but gloom, in the house, the thick, heavy sort that was almost tangible. There was darkness, and the edge of a chair, and a thick rug. Henry squinted, his excitement dying. There was no one. Had the crows been wrong?

Something shifted in the darkness. He peered closer, pressing his nose to the cool glass. Moonlight broke through, shining on a head of silver hair. His heart quickened, and the person looked up.

Before Henry could breath, could even think, Robin was running across the room, throwing open the window so fast he felt the burn as it slid past his nose.

“Henry,” she said in a whisper.

“Robin,” he replied.

“It’s you.”

“It’s me!”

Without warning, her eyes welled up with tears, and she let them fall like rain. “Dummy. You shouldn’t be here.”

“No way. I… It wasn’t… I missed you. A lot,” he added lamely. His heart swelled, clogging his throat, trapping the storm of feelings and words he wanted to convey.

“Me too,” she whispered, bowing her head for a moment. “I… I’m sorry. I… I didn’t come back, and I know you were worried, and I wanted to, so badly, but…!”

“No! It’s okay. I’m the one who’s sorry. I left you behind, and you had to deal with that horrible man, and… I didn’t… I left you alone!”

“No! You didn’t do anything wrong. Henry, if anything hurt you, I… I wouldn’t be able to stand it. That’s why… I didn’t want you to stay.”

“But that’s how I feel, too. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. Robin, I… I wish I was strong enough to protect you from everything.”

Robin scrubbed away at her tears with the back of her hand. “Well, I want to protect you, too. From everything that hurts you.”

They giggled a little at that. 

“But we’re here now,” Henry said. 

“You’re here now.” A pause. “But you shouldn't be. You have to go soon. My dad, he-- if he sees you, he won’t--”

“Okay. Then I’ll come back, some other time.”

Robin shook her head violently. “No. It’s too dangerous. I’ll-- I’ll sneak out to you. I’ll be able to. Tomorrow, even. So wait for me, okay?”

“But what if something happens again, and you can’t leave? I can come back--”

“It’ll be okay,” Robin breathed. “I’ll come tomorrow. I promise.”

“Okay. Okay, I trust you. But if it’s too dangerous, just stay home, promise?” Henry said.

“Okay. Promise… I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” he said.

“I’ll tell you everything tomorrow,” she said.

Henry nodded. He couldn’t trust himself to speak as he fought an onslaught of tears that fell without his permission. Robin waved to him, once, as he turned and ran with the crows back to the school.

He understood. Neither of them wanted to say goodbye again, even if there was the promise of tomorrow.


End file.
